


Goodbye

by bioticgoddess



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticgoddess/pseuds/bioticgoddess
Summary: Taken from my Tumblr:Been reading the books and playing Wild Hunt. Realized that, or less, the games and books do create a relatively complete timeline. I’m sure the rest of the Witcher Fandom has figured that out, so I realize my bum is late to the party. That said, Lady of the Lake ending how it does and Wild Hunt picking up where it does I thought - what if Ciri knew she’d have to leave Galahad’s world and come back to the Nordling/Witcher World at some point? So here’s that drabble.
Kudos: 5





	Goodbye

She could feel it, Child of Destiny, in the water and earth, smell it on the air - the Riders were coming for her. They had finally and inevitably found a way to track her and the months spent with Galahad were ending. She would not bring the Aen Elle’s wrath upon him, upon Camelot. A chill ran up her back as a gust of air rushed through her window – unseasonably cold she thought. Very soon, she would need to leave this place and it made her sick.

“ _Zireael, we must flee. You are not safe.”_

“Avallac’h,” she muttered to the voice that echoed faintly in her head, heart beat picking up speed. She wasn’t sure if it was really the elf or just what she suspected he would say.

“ _Say your goodbyes Zireael. I am sorry.”_

Hanging her head, grief dropped like a rock to her belly. Of course he had found her. If she suspected the Wild Hunt and Eredin could do so then it was a guarantee that the Elven Sage could track her through space and time. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered, staring at the toe of her slippers. Gwynevere had had the shoes made for her, insisting the young woman be afforded the same finery as the other ladies of court and the wives of Arthur’s Knights. “It was nice to be this way again,” ran her palms over the soft satin of her dress, “Even if only for a time.”

–

By the time Galahad came back to the chambers they shared, she had packed and changed into traveling clothes. What he found was the ashen-haired woman sharpening the sword she hadn’t used – save to train – in months. “Ciri,” he asked curiously, “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“I have to go Galahad,” her voice was shaking. This would be more difficult than she expected. “Remember when I came here? I said that there was a chance that…that a Wizard would come for me? If he did I needed to go, to _run_.”

“Yes,” his blood ran cold and fear played in his eyes, “He’s come hasn’t he?”

She nodded.

“I’m going with you.”

“No,” Panic backed her words only to be squashed as she shot up, nearly cutting her hand on her blade. “Ah! No, Galahad, you belong here. This, this is your world. I have to go back to mine. To finish out the Prophecy I was born under.” Setting the blade and whetstone aside as he crossed to her, the Princess turned Witcher let herself be safe in his embrace. He smelled of sweat and firewood, a thing she knew would haunt her the way Yennefer’s own Lilac and Gooseberry fragrance haunted Geralt. Oh makers she missed them. She would miss him too.

–

They stood where they had met. Where he’d enticed her to share her story – the first place she’d felt safe in a long time. “I will come back for you, I promise,” she whispered, holding his hands and putting on a brave face. For the first time since the Fall of Cintra she felt helpless. It would not be the last.

“I love you Cirila of Cintra,” he smiled weakly, heart clenching in his chest. One last time, Galahad leaned in, pressing his lips to that of the woman before him.

“I love you too, Galahad of Caer Benic,” she smiled back and he wiped tears from her eyes.

They would have stayed there, trying to forever burn the images of one another into their minds had Avallac’h not cleared his throat. Ciri introduced him as the wizard and the masked Aen Elle Elf bowed slightly at the waist in greeting. Extending an arm to her he hastened, “I am afraid we must leave my lady.”

Reluctantly, hands slipping from Galahad’s, she stepped over to her pseudo-protector and companion. As her palm rested in his, the elf reached back behind them with his other hand. With a flourish of his wrist, a portal opened. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she swallowed, not entirely convinced. When he nodded they stepped through. At almost the last moment, she turned her gaze back over her shoulder to see Galahad watching and holding the token she’d given him – the Griffin medallion taken from her late tormentor, Leo Bonhart.


End file.
